Sympathy for the Icelanders Part VIII: Christmas Surprises
by HaloFin17
Summary: Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **No ownership, no profit. No worries.

**Author's Note: **Well, this will likely be the most romantic thing I've ever written, so I'm a little nervous. It's really not my preferred genre. But Julie and Gunnar are just such a perfect couple, they make me try anyway. Remember, this takes place back in the mid-90's, so I'm trying to keep it more or less real from a technological standpoint. Hope you enjoy!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue**

**Christmas Surprises – Chapter 1**

It was nice coming home for a few days over Thanksgiving break. A "break" is exactly what we all needed after the Ducks' first few strenuous months at Eden Hall Academy, and I had eagerly breathed in Maine's crisp autumn air when I set foot out of the Bangor airport. It probably wasn't much different from the autumn air of Minnesota, but I had convinced myself it was more wholesome and refreshing.

I had just helped my mom put away all the leftovers we'd be eating for the rest of the weekend while my brothers both watched football in the living room with my dad. I would have joined them if it had been a hockey match instead, but I just wasn't in the mood for football at the time.

So instead I quietly slipped away to my room, where I dug Gunnar's latest letter out of my backpack and reread it for about the tenth time. I had wished him a Happy Thanksgiving in my last letter, not realizing until I read his reply back that he had no idea what I was talking about. Duh, Julie – there is no Thanksgiving in Iceland_. _ I would have to explain the significance in my next message. At least Christmas was a holiday we both shared.

I was happy to learn that Gunnar had continued to play hockey back home in Iceland, even though it meant he would still be playing for Wolf Stansson until the start of the next school year. At least I could somewhat empathize with him now about playing for a coach who didn't exactly inspire warm fuzzies inside his players – not that Coach Orion was anywhere near as bad as The Dentist. But Gunnar never really talked much about his coach; so instead, I just kept encouraging him to play hard and focused our hockey discussions on aspects of the game that I knew he loved.

I think our talks were particularly helpful to him in the later part of the summer, when he'd suffered a couple of badly bruised ribs as the result of a nasty check into the boards. After he'd assured me more than once that Stansson was in no way personally responsible for the injury, I'd been happy to support him through it as best I could. On doctor's orders, he was kept off the ice for three weeks before even being allowed to return to practice; I can only imagine how the lack of activity must have grated on him. Thankfully, those days were now behind him, and he was back to his normal, hockey-obsessed self.

His present team wasn't exactly the same as the one we Ducks had played against in the Jr. Goodwill Games, but he had kept some of the same teammates – including Olaf Sanderson. Now there was one topic I had been extremely leery of bringing up early on. Any tension between those two best friends was at least partly due to me, and I admit I had been a little afraid that Gunnar might come to resent me for it over time. But within a couple months of our correspondence, casual and even pleasant mentions of Olaf started making their way back into Gunnar's conversation, which I took to be a positive sign.

As for my own circle of friends, only Connie knew the details of what had transpired between Gunnar and me back in Los Angeles. Luckily, I had her full support, once she'd gotten over her initial phase of utter disbelief. Connie was also the only person outside of my immediate family to know that Gunnar and I were still in contact with each other as regularly as possible. And only she knew how much I truly missed him.

Gunnar and I had talked over the phone pretty faithfully throughout the summer, even if it was just once every few weeks. Invariably, I would have to be the one to terminate our conversation, when I would realize that a late night for me had turned into a night of virtually no sleep for him. It always left me feeling grateful for his time, but guilty for depriving him of much-needed rest.

"You know I can live without sleep," he would say, to which I would respond, "Yes, but we both know it's not smart when you do."

But once school started back up again, our phone conversations had really suffered – especially with me going away to Eden Hall this year and living in a dorm. I had given him the best number to reach me at there; but so far he'd only managed to get a hold of me at school once, on my birthday, and the conversation had been a short one. I'm sure he's been just as busy in Iceland as I have been here, balancing school and hockey. Factor in a six-hour time difference on top of that, and I didn't have the slightest idea of when to try calling him. It was frustrating, to say the least.

It likewise hurt that I didn't have a single picture of him. My parents had recorded the entire Championship match from the Games, and I'd watched the tape multiple times since coming home – mostly just to catch a glimpse of him. But tracing his distant, black-clad figure on the ice was a far cry from actually hearing his voice or seeing his face again.

Thankfully, we still had good, old-fashioned letters, and it turned out neither of us were shy with a pen. Connie teasingly called them "love letters", but they truly weren't as sappy and romantic as all that; we didn't know each other well enough. They were really more of an ongoing conversation as we continued to learn more about one another – exchanging ideas, comparing opinions, and sharing about life's latest happenings.

Sometimes I had a little difficulty deciphering his English, but overall, it was quite good. He must have been finding the time to write somewhere in his hectic schedule, because I was never left waiting for longer than a couple of weeks before receiving a response from him.

Personally, I had been tempted on multiple occasions to write to him during class, but I always stopped myself. I didn't want to risk getting my scholarship into trouble either through misbehavior or lagging academics. So instead, I kept myself up much too late at night, writing to him after I'd finished with my homework for the evening. Speaking of which, there was probably some assignment I should be working on right now – unfortunately.

I had just pulled out my Algebra book when the phone rang downstairs; most likely it was some relative, calling just because it was a holiday.

But then I heard my mom call out, "Julie? It's for you."

That was odd. Maybe it was a girlfriend who wanted me to go shopping with her tomorrow? I tromped down the stairs in a wholly unladylike fashion, grateful to at least have a distraction from mathematics. I looked at my mom questioningly before taking the receiver from her, hoping she might give me some indication of who had called.

While she didn't say anything, there was a certain _look_ in my mother's eyes that I recognized in a heartbeat, and my stomach did an involuntary flip-flop. Without a single word passing between us, I grabbed the phone and darted off into another room where I could close the door behind me to prevent any of the males in my family from overhearing.

My heart was racing a mile a minute when I finally said, "Hello?"

"Hello, is this Julie?"

"Gunnar! It's been so long since we actually talked, it's great to hear from you again."

I was so caught up in the familiar accent that I didn't even notice this voice was slightly different from the one I knew; for one thing, it was more mature.

"Sorry," the voice said with a chuckle, "but not quite. Julie, you don't know me, but my name is Mikael Stahl. I'm Gunnar's brother."

"Oh…hi," I stuttered, confused and suddenly at a loss for words. This was _so _embarrassing! Thankfully, he was more than willing to fill the silence.

"I imagine Gunnar doesn't talk about me much."

"No, he doesn't," I managed to say. "But still, it's nice to meet you – sort of."

"It's nice to 'sort of' meet you, too."

I felt my mind and body slowly starting to unwind. Considering that I'd never met this guy before in my life, he was pleasantly easy to talk to; and his English was excellent. But why on earth would Gunnar's brother be calling me?

He spoke again, "Rumor has it that my brother is quite distressed over missing you."

"Really?" I grinned. "Where did you hear that, from your parents?"

"No, they were not as helpful as I had hoped. I asked Olaf. Do you remember him?"

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I'll never forget Olaf Sanderson. What did he tell you about Gunnar and me?"

"Mostly about how pathetic Gunnar has been lately; personally, I think he's worried about him. But you will be happy to hear from the mouth of his best friend that my brother hasn't gone on a single date since the Goodwill Games and that he's gotten into trouble with his teachers more than once for writing letters to you during class."

I laughed aloud before I could stop myself. "I had wondered where he was finding the time to write!"

"Julie, the reason I'm calling is that, with your parents' permission, I would like to send you to Reykjavik for Christmas. We'll keep it a surprise, and that will be my gift to Gunnar. I've already talked to my parents, and they say they would love to have you."

He had said everything so matter-of-factly that it took me a moment to register the full meaning of his words. When I finally did, my whole world temporarily froze. I was stunned speechless, plain and simple.

"Only if you want to go, of course," he amended quickly. "And if you don't want to, I won't tell him."

That got my voice working again. "Are you kidding, of course I want to go! I just…this is so unexpected, I don't even know what to say. Are you serious?"

"Perfectly serious. I wouldn't be calling, otherwise."

"You're really going to send me to Iceland so I can see Gunnar?"

"If your parents agree to it, yes."

"Oh my gosh, thank you. Thank you!" My mind was spinning around in circles like a whirlpool, struggling to grasp all the implications of such a trip. "But, do you think any of Gunnar's friends will be mad if I just show up there?"

"It's possible," he admitted. "Would that stop you from going?"

"No, not at all. I'll just have to mentally prepare myself beforehand."

"I wouldn't worry too much about it. Olaf told me Gunnar won't let anyone speak badly of you, so I'm sure he won't allow them to bother you in person either."

"That's nice to know he's sticking up for me." More than nice – it made me feel decidedly warm and cozy inside. "And sorry, Mikael, I'm just curious…but if this is all a big secret and Gunnar doesn't know you're talking to me right now, how did you get my number?"

There was a pause. "Are you sure you want to hear this whole story?"

"Well, when you say it like that, you bet I do."

He laughed in his turn now. "All right then. Did Gunnar ever tell you that I was in Los Angeles for the end of your tournament?"

"No, I don't think he ever mentioned it. Does that mean you saw the Championship?"

"Yes, and as soon as you came out onto the ice, I knew Gunnar would be in trouble if he went glove-side like he usually does."

"He told me he's really been working on using a wider variety of shots since then."

"I'm sure he has. But about your phone number…do you know where Gunnar went after his date with you that evening?"

"I always assumed he'd gone back to the dorms with the rest of his team. Why? Did he end up spending the night with you instead?"

"Yes, exactly. It was after midnight by the time he came to my hotel room, and you know how tired he must have been. So the next morning, while he was still asleep, I…might have gone through his pockets looking for your information. I found the paper you'd given him, copied it, and put the original back in his pocket."

It took a few seconds for my brain to fully process that, too. "You did _what_? Why?"

"I was already thinking I might do something like this one day – if you two kept in touch."

"That's still kind of creepy."

"But now you can thank me for it, right?" He sounded entirely shameless, and all my indignation left me in a short huff.

"Yeah, I suppose so."

"I would also like to arrange it so that he is the one to pick you up at the airport. He already thinks I'm coming home for Christmas, but I want you to meet him there instead."

"Well, why don't you still come anyway?" I suggested. After all, it hardly seemed fair that Mikael should forego time with his family over Christmas just for my sake.

"No, I'm sure Gunnar would rather see you than me, and I would just get in the way of your time together. Besides," he went on before I could protest again, "I've been thinking that I should invite him and Olaf to spend their spring break with me here in Hamburg; the change of scenery would do them both good. So they'll see me soon enough, anyhow."

"All right, if you're really sure. And again, Mikael, thank you – thank you _so _much!"

"It's my pleasure. Just promise me you'll make the most out of your time there, all right?"

"Don't worry, I will," I vowed, feeling my cheeks warm at how my brain had immediately interpreted that vague commission.

"Go talk to your parents, then. My parents are going to call them tomorrow, sometime when Gunnar's not home."

"Okay, sure, I'll do that right now."

"Good. And be sure to tell Gunnar 'Merry Christmas' for me."

After we said goodbye, I sat by myself in silence for a minute, grinning like an idiot and letting the enormity of it all wash over me. Then I ran for the kitchen.

"MOM!"

It was surprisingly easy to get my parents on board with the idea, and by the end of the weekend, all the details had been arranged for my unprecedented Christmas in Iceland. And suddenly, I couldn't wait to get back to Eden Hall so I could tell Connie all about it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary: **Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **No ownership, no profit. No worries.

**Author's Note: **Today is my birthday, so here's my gift to you readers. Special thanks to Sand Sibling for the review! Hope you all have fun with the excitement of Chapter 2.

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue**

**Christmas Surprises – Chapter 2**

"Connie!"

"Hey, Julie!" She waved at me from across the school parking lot and hurried over to give me a hug in greeting. "How was your Thanksgiving?"

"It was great – really great. Like, so great I need to talk to you about it as soon as possible – in private."

My friend was only too happy to oblige, and the instant the door to our dorm closed behind us, she gushed, "Did you hear from Gunnar?"

"Not exactly. Guess where I'm going for Christmas?"

She seemed taken aback, almost disappointed, by the apparent change of subject. "Oh, umm, I don't know. Disney World?"

I shook my head. "Even better."

"Hawaii?" she tried again.

"Good guess, but try an even more exotic island."

Connie's brown eyes went wide. "What? No way! That can't be, you're not serious. Oh my gosh, wait, you _are _serious?"

I nodded, practically beaming now that I could finally share this news with someone, and Connie just gaped.

"But how?" she stammered. "How is that even possible if you didn't talk to him this weekend?"

I finally explained, "His brother Mikael called me at home on Thanksgiving Day, completely out of the blue. Connie – he's offered to pay my way to Iceland so that I can be there as a surprise Christmas present for Gunnar."

At that, my friend's face exploded into just about the hugest smile I'd ever seen; it might have even been bigger than my own at the time. Without warning, she threw her arms around me and squealed with delight right into my ear.

"Oh my gosh, I don't believe it! This is incredible! Julie, you are going to Iceland – to _Iceland_ for…how long?"

"A week."

"For a week! You're going to Iceland for a whole, freaking _week_ to spend your Christmas with Gunnar Stahl. This is so crazy! Are you going to tell the guys now – finally?"

I hesitated. "I don't know, Con, I still think it would be better not to."

"But how long can you really keep this whole thing a secret? We ought to change your name a little to Juliet, complete with your very own Viking Romeo. Come on, Julie, you have to admit it's hardly fair to keep them in the dark like this for so long – especially to Adam. You know he's had a crush on you ever since the Goodwill Games, even if he hasn't been as obvious about it as Portman."

"Yes, yes, I know that." I sighed. "But what am I supposed to do about it? He's never asked me out or told me that he likes me as more than a friend. Am I supposed to just walk up to him at random and say, 'Sorry, Banks, you have to stop liking me from afar because I have this long-distance sort of almost relationship going on with a gorgeous foreigner whose best friend broke your arm less than a year ago'?"

Now it was Connie's turn to sigh as she sat down next to me on my bed. "I'm sorry, Jules, I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that. It's just…they're bound to find out about you and Gunnar eventually, aren't they? Especially if this whole trip of yours goes well, which I hope it does. Wouldn't you rather have them find out on your own terms?"

"How about a compromise?" I suggested. "We keep quiet about it for now, but if the trip to Iceland strengthens whatever Gunnar and I have going, then I promise I'll figure out some way to break the news to the rest of the team."

She nodded, satisfied. "It's a deal."

* * *

The following month was a whirlwind of nerves, preparations, and conversations with Connie behind closed doors. When the big day finally came, my friend stayed an extra day in the dorms to help me pack before heading home for Christmas herself.

"So you're not going home at all first?" she clarified.

"Nope. Turns out Icelandair flies direct from Minneapolis, so I'm going straight to Iceland tonight. Then I'll come back to Maine via Boston and be home for New Year's."

"And what's the plan again for when you get there?"

"Once I go through customs, all I know is that Gunnar is supposed to be there to meet me."

"But he has no idea you're coming?"

"None. He thinks he's going there to pick up Mikael. We even found me a flight that will arrive in Iceland close to the same time that Mikael's flight would have, if he was going."

"How sneaky you all are. Remember your camera, too! Though I'll be curious to see if you come back with more pictures of Gunnar or all the rest of Iceland. Oh, this is all so exciting! I just can't believe it's actually happening right now."

"How do you think I feel? I'm a nervous wreck! Look at this, Con, my hands are literally shaking."

She grabbed my trembling hands, grounding me. "Calm down, it's all right. You'll be fine, and you're going to have a great time."

"But what if he's not as happy to see me as we thought? I mean, he's not going to be surprised, he's going to be _stunned_. He thinks he's going to pick up his brother; that's a complete mental and emotional turnaround if all of a sudden he sees me show up out of nowhere."

"Julie, just breathe, take a deep breath. Now, if I may ask, how does Gunnar sign his letters to you?"

"What do you mean? He signs his name, of course."

"No, no, before his name. Does he say 'yours truly' or 'affectionately'? Anything like that?"

I thought about it. "He usually just says 'I miss you'."

"And you're worried he won't be happy to see you?"

"Well, besides that, I've never traveled internationally before. I mean, sure, I went with my family to Canada once, so thankfully I have my passport already. But that's hardly the same as flying to Iceland by myself, going through customs, and all that other stuff."

"You should have asked Mikael about it."

"I did. Apparently he's an experienced traveler, and it did help; but I'm still nervous about it."

She was standing over my suitcase now, sorting through what I'd already packed. "A swimsuit? Seriously, Jules?"

"Mikael said to bring one." I shrugged. "Now I just wish I hadn't eaten so much over Thanksgiving."

"Well, I hope everything else you're bringing is geared for super cold weather; it _is _Iceland in December, after all. You should bring a couple of turtleneck sweaters. They look good on you, especially when you leave your hair down. And you do realize it's going to be dark almost all day this time of year?"

"Right, there will only be about four hours of daylight; he did mention that."

Connie smiled. "Mikael sounds really thoughtful and sweet. Not that I would know, of course, but just based on what you've told me. It's like he's already looking out for you."

"Kind of, although Lord knows I don't need another older brother. But I'm glad Gunnar has him, otherwise none of this would be happening."

"It's too bad you won't get to meet him and thank him in person."

"Yeah, that would have been nice. Maybe another time, if I'm lucky."

My friend's happy expression wavered a little. "Julie, what I'm honestly worried about is that, if you're there with Gunnar for so long, you're kind of bound to see Sanderson too…don't you think?"

I nodded, steeling my determination in the process. "I'm pretty much counting on it, Con. Can I give him a message for you, if he asks?"

"I would say punch him again for me, but I don't think Gunnar would appreciate that too much."

"Probably not." I indulged in a nervous laugh. "I'll just brace myself for the worst and expect him to be a complete jerk at every given opportunity. Sanderson, that is – not Gunnar."

"Don't worry, there was no chance of confusing the two! So, do you think you're about ready here?"

I took a deep breath. "Yes, I think I've got everything I'll need."

* * *

Of all people, it was Scooter Vanderbilt, the Varsity goalie, who flagged me down when he saw my suitcase and offered to give me a ride to the airport. Since I was going to have to bum a ride with someone anyway, I agreed. I got into the car with him and, as always, was struck by how closely he resembled Gunnar. Seriously – if you made Gunnar a little older and gave him shorter, darker hair, you'd have Scooter. I had even told Gunnar about him.

I really had to watch myself with this guy, though. If I relaxed my guard around him, it was almost like I could forget that he actually _wasn't _Gunnar. He was certainly the most tolerable of all the Varsity team members, and even sitting here with him now felt disturbingly natural and relaxed.

We passed the time with small talk about various classes at school and his family's plans for the holidays; surprisingly, our obvious shared interest of hockey (and goal-tending, in particular) never came up in conversation.

"Where do you need me to drop you off?" he asked when we finally arrived at the airport.

Okay, this was where things could get a little weird. "Umm, I actually need the international terminal please."

"Really?" He sounded impressed as he glanced over my way. "You're going overseas for Christmas?"

"Yeah, this…opportunity came along, and I really couldn't pass it up." I should have known better than to hope the topic would drop there.

"Cool. Where are you going?"

"Europe," I answered evasively. "Northern Europe."

"Well, which airline?"

Shoot. He would need to know that in order to drop me off at the right place. There was no turning back now. "Icelandair."

"Iceland?" If there hadn't been other vehicles moving along on all sides of us, I think Scooter would have stopped the car in his surprise. "What is there in Iceland besides that team you guys barely beat in the Goodwill Games last summer?"

I didn't know what to say; my voice had completely failed me.

"Or is that the whole reason you're going? To visit one of the Icelandic players you met back then?"

Wow. I would never have expected him to connect the dots so quickly on his own. My continued silence must have been all the confirmation he needed.

His fingers drummed against the steering wheel in agitation. "You know, there are plenty of guys here in the U.S. too – guys who don't make a habit of bulldozing your teammates all over the ice for hours at a time."

"Yeah, I know." He was starting to make me feel guilty about the whole thing; but then I thought of Gunnar, and suddenly I felt ashamed of feeling guilty. What an emotional train wreck!

"Is he at least one of their better players? Somebody I might recognize?"

"You would if you followed the Games at all. He was the top scorer in the hockey tournament…and he's the player whose shot I blocked to win us the Championship."

"No way – _that_ guy? Somebody Stahl?"

"Gunnar Stahl, right."

Scooter shook his head. "And let me guess, even though you hardly know him, you can tell he's just wonderful."

Now I felt myself getting a little defensive. "Well, he's…not what my teammates all think he is. I can say that much, at least."

"You mean he doesn't hate you for robbing his team of the gold and probably ruining his entire life?"

"No, as a matter of fact, he doesn't. And you shouldn't say things like that; I've worked hard since then to convince him that his _entire _life hasn't been ruined. Actually, believe it or not, he looks a lot like you; it's kind of scary."

I think he almost laughed at that. "So, in other words, you and I might have had a chance if he hadn't been there first?"

I blinked. Well, _that_ was unexpected! I'd no idea Scooter had the slightest interest in me; although, in hindsight, I suppose he had always paid more attention to me than to any of my fellow Ducks.

I replied carefully, "In another universe, maybe we could have worked out; although I'm pretty sure your teammates wouldn't have approved."

"And do _your _teammates approve of this little tryst? Do they even _know_?"

"No, they don't," I confessed quietly, lowering my eyes. "Only Connie knows. I really don't know what'll happen if and when the rest of the guys find out. Please don't tell them, okay?"

"They won't hear about it from me," he agreed, if only a little reluctantly. "But if you don't come back next semester, at least I'll know where to go look for you. Gaffney, just promise me you'll be safe while you're there – and smart."

His concern sounded so genuine it was almost touching; I couldn't help nodding. "I will. Thanks, Scooter."

* * *

I must have dozed off at some point during the overnight plane ride, which was very much a positive thing. There had been a slight weather delay taking off, but with the time difference added in, it was still about seven thirty in the morning on Christmas Eve when we finally landed at Keflavik. I woke up while we were making our descent and my ears started popping. It was too dark to see much as I peered out the window, but I could make out a distant pinpoint of light that might have been a lighthouse.

I tidied up my hair again as best I could without a mirror, struggling not to fret too much over it. Between following the signs and moving along with the crowds, I successfully claimed my bag and navigated my way through customs. Nothing too traumatic happened there, thank goodness. Then it was off to the ground transportation area, where Gunnar was supposedly awaiting Mikael's arrival.

By that time, my stomach was an absolute mess of butterflies and nerves. My heart pounded like a hammer inside my chest, my legs felt weak, and my mouth was dry. What if this all turned out to be a horrible idea? What if I couldn't find him, or if he wasn't there at all? At this rate, I would be lucky if I didn't faint before it was all over. Or throw up.

It was ridiculously easy to spot Gunnar once I reached the appointed place; whether that was because of his unique hair or because I'd been agonizing over this moment in my head for the past month, I really couldn't say. He was facing away from me, no doubt looking toward where he expected to see his brother coming. I approached him from behind, my "catlike" steps quiet enough not to garner his attention.

The first time I opened my mouth to speak, the words stuck, and nothing came out. I very gently cleared my throat, liberating my poor vocal chords. My voice still wasn't strong after that, but it was enough.

"Mikael says hi…"

Gunnar turned around.

"…and Merry Christmas."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary: **Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **No ownership, no profit. No worries.

**Author's Note: **Hello again, and thank you again to Sand Sibling for being such a devoted follower of the Sympathy Series. I'm happy to say we've finally got Julie & Gunnar reunited in Iceland, so do enjoy Chapter 3!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue**

**Christmas Surprises – Chapter 3**

I had never seen a person so genuinely shocked; even when I'd blocked his shot in the Championship, Gunnar had not looked this surprised. It was probably only a second or two that he stood staring at me, but it felt like hours.

Then, finally, he smiled. Gosh, how I had missed it!

"Julie."

We each took a step forward at the same time and met halfway. I instinctively wrapped my arms around his neck while his went around my waist. School, teammates, championships…even twelve-to-one shellackings. All were forgotten when Gunnar Stahl kissed me – which I had also missed. We stayed standing like that even after we'd pulled apart to catch our breath.

"I missed you," I whispered, flinching internally at how needy that probably sounded.

But his smile only softened. "I have missed you, too – every day."

I moved my arms down to encircle his torso instead and blissfully rested my head against his strong chest. I felt him press a kiss to my temple and run his fingers through my hair. It felt so natural and _right_, just being there close to him again; it didn't even matter what country we were in.

As bewildered as he must have been upon seeing me, the silence between us was comfortable until I randomly commented, "I like your brother. I don't know why you don't talk about him more often."

I looked up at him again when I felt him pause before speaking. "Did Mikael do all this?"

"Yep, everything from start to finish. He even stole my phone number from you while you were with him in Los Angeles all those months ago, just so he could contact me one day without you knowing."

Gunnar shook his head, disbelieving but still smiling. "He is crazy, which is probably why I don't talk about him. Is he not coming at all, then?"

"No, I'm afraid not." I felt another unfortunate twinge at being the bearer of bad news. "I tried to convince him that he should still come, but he wouldn't go for it."

"I am not surprised; it isn't easy to get him back here."

"Still, promise me you'll call your brother soon and thank him for all of this, okay?"

He nodded. "I will. I just…still can't believe that you are here."

"I can hardly believe it myself." All my nerves from before had turned into a giddy light-headedness, and now it was difficult not to start giggling uncontrollably.

"But my parents do know you're coming, right?"

"Yes, of course," I happily assured him, "though I think they're the only people in all of Iceland who know."

After one more kiss, he trailed his hands down my arms and finally let me go, reaching to carry my bag instead. As we made our way out to the car, he remarked, "This could be a little…strange with you here."

I chuckled. "I'm sure, but how exactly do you mean?"

"Because Olaf and a few of my other friends whom you may recognize are expecting Mikael to be here this week. I told them he was coming, and they wanted to see him, maybe play hockey if we could talk him into it."

"Well, I brought my skates, but I couldn't exactly pack all my goalie gear. I think I would have liked to see him play against you and Olaf."

"That's what we were hoping for, too, since it's been so long. Some other time now, I guess."

I couldn't detect any real disappointment in his voice just then, yet I still found myself hoping that Mikael would follow through on his idea of inviting Gunnar and Olaf to Germany for their spring break. I could already tell the time together would be good for all three of them, especially if they hadn't seen each other since the Goodwill Games.

As Gunnar drove us back to Reykjavik, I was struck by the overwhelming rockiness of the terrain. All volcanic rock, I imagined, stretching as far as the eye could see. But there wasn't as much snow as I'd expected to find, at least not in this part of the country; in fact, there was hardly any at all to speak of. I also couldn't help but be quietly impressed by Gunnar's driving stick-shift; personally, I had finished my driver's education classes but still needed to rack up a lot of practice hours behind the wheel before I could get my license when I turned sixteen the following year.

Along the way, we talked amiably about Mikael's whole scheme to bring me up there, including Gunnar's perplexity over why his parents had both been so insistent that _he_ be the one to make the trip to the airport. Even as I laughed with him, I had to pinch myself a couple of times. It just felt so surreal to be sitting there with him, side by side, chatting away like we'd known each other for years. Could this really be the same Gunnar Stahl that most of Team USA had cursed behind closed doors less than a year ago? What a bizarre turn my life had taken!

"So what do you guys normally do for Christmas?" I asked at length. "Is it a big family gathering?"

"Not really. My mother's family here is not large, and my father's family is all in Germany. So it will probably be just the four of us – plus Olaf for part of the time, possibly. He had been planning to come."

"To see Mikael?" I conjectured, and Gunnar nodded a confirmation.

"I should probably let him know that plans have changed."

I had to agree with that; facing Sanderson again would be daunting enough without startling him quite as badly as I had just done to Gunnar. It would only be fair to warn him ahead of time, for the benefit of everyone.

Our approach to Reykjavik afforded a hazy view of the Atlantic Ocean, along with a rounded mountain on a peninsula that extended out into the water on the far side of the bay. As for what I could see of the city itself, brightly-painted buildings popped out against a dreary background of gray water and sky.

Eventually we reached Gunnar's house; and as soon as we walked through the front door, a medium-sized dog with long, fluffy blonde hair came bounding up enthusiastically to greet us. He was so friendly, I couldn't help laughing and scratching him behind the ears – whenever he held still long enough for me to do so.

"This is Halli," Gunnar introduced us, kneeling down so he could give his pet a proper greeting. The dog's tail wagged so energetically you would have thought he hadn't seen Gunnar in weeks, rather than a few hours. I'm no dog expert, but I could best describe Halli as looking like a cross between a husky and a golden retriever. In reality, he was probably some Icelandic breed I wouldn't recognize.

Is it permissible to have two first impressions of someone you've just met? Because I definitely had two impressions upon meeting Gunnar's parents for the first time. Firstly, they were extremely gracious and welcoming right from the start, which a huge relief for me. And secondly, I didn't think there could be any way genetically possible for this couple to bring an ugly child into the world.

They must have been at least close to my parents' age, yet they were both still far more attractive than my parents probably ever were. Gunnar's mother, Elina, was particularly beautiful, and I had never seen age sit so gently on someone before. Thanks to several pictures around the house, I finally saw that Mikael was a highly attractive young man as well, and it was clear he and Gunnar had both inherited their mother's striking blue eyes. Their overall facial shape and slightly darker hair color seemed to have come from their German father, whose name was Peter.

A bitter, whipping rainstorm confined us indoors for the rest of the day, which was honestly fine with me. I didn't have a ton of energy left after that long plane ride, and I was perfectly happy to just visit with Gunnar and his parents. Although Gunnar and I had kept in touch with our letters, there was plenty more to say about the events of recent months – details and backstories that could only come out in a face-to-face conversation as opposed to written communication. He seemed particularly fascinated by my anecdotes regarding the Ducks' ongoing prank war with the Eden Hall Varsity.

I felt right at home there and was soon comfortable enough to pose a question that I knew would put Gunnar in an awkward spotlight.

"So, I just have to ask: who's the better hockey player in the family? Gunnar or Mikael?"

Gunnar hesitated, looking briefly over at his father as though he wasn't sure how to answer that; and maybe he truly didn't know.

"I am probably better than him now in most areas," he replied thoughtfully, "if only because Mikael hasn't played in a few years. But even today, he might be a better defender than I am; he has always been an excellent skater and could do things on defense that his opponents would not expect."

That was impressive to learn; oh, how I do love a good defense! "Do you think he could have played professionally if he'd wanted to?" I asked.

"If he had chosen to, yes." Peter nodded. "I know Wolf was sorry to see him give it up."

"I'm sure," I remarked quietly, while daring a cautious glance toward Gunnar. This was the first time Stansson had come up in conversation, and the more I learned, the more I was forced to wonder about the inner dynamics of Gunnar's hockey existence.

Anyone who had seen Team Iceland back at the Jr. Goodwill Games (myself included) would surely have thought that the rest of the Vikings operated more or less in the shadow of Gunnar Stahl, a player constantly singled out by coaches and commentators alike on account of his exceptional talent. Only now did I suspect that Gunnar himself lived and played in someone else's shadow, as well – a prodigious shadow rendered even darker by Wolf Stansson's ongoing frustration toward the person who cast it. Perhaps that was yet another factor which drove Gunnar to hone his skills to perfection as relentlessly as he did?

After dinner, the time difference finally caught up to me, and I could scarcely keep my eyes open. Elina led me to a guest bedroom, which I'm pretty darn sure used to be Mikael's old room. It was comfortable and clean, but there was a decidedly masculine feel about the place that no amount of redecorating could fully remove. My mom had experienced similar housekeeping challenges last year when my oldest brother went away to college.

It made little difference to me, though, and I was out like a light as soon as I closed my eyes.

* * *

The "Merry Christmas" kiss that Gunnar and I shared the next morning was our longest yet, and we only stopped when we heard footsteps approaching from down the hallway. But Gunnar still kept his hands on my shoulders, reaching to affectionately tuck my hair back behind my ears.

"I talked to Mikael last night," he told me while I tightened my arms around his waist.

"Oh good, I'm glad! What did he say?"

Gunnar looked downright embarrassed as he sheepishly replied, "He warned me not to do anything stupid, because we'll want your parents to let us visit each other again sometime in the future."

I tried not to blush, but I'm relatively sure the effort was unsuccessful. "That's probably very smart of him."

"I also called Olaf last night and told him you were here; I'm not sure now if he will still come over today."

"Was he upset?" I braced myself for the answer.

"He was surprised," Gunnar confessed after a pause, and we both left it at that.

Not surprisingly, Gunnar received a number of hockey-related Christmas gifts from his parents; my own gift to him was the latest U2 album on CD.

He thanked me with a chaste kiss on the cheek and said, "You did not have to buy me anything; you are here with me for a week, spending Christmas away from your own family. I am just sorry I don't have a present for you."

"But you didn't know I was coming until Christmas Eve, so I can't count it against you. You can show me all around Iceland while I'm here, and that will be an impressive gift all on its own."

He nodded in agreement. "All right. Many places worth seeing cannot be safely reached during the winter, but we will still have plenty to keep us busy."

I quickly learned that homemade Christmas treats are delicious anywhere in the world, and I consumed far too many of them before guiltily remembering the swimsuit I had packed away in my bag.

Olaf did come over around dinnertime, and Halli greeted him just like one of the family. It was odd, to say the least, to watch Olaf Sanderson embrace a sweet lady like Elina with a genuine smile and kiss her on the cheek as though she were his own mother. He looked at me from across the room without really acknowledging me – yet.

If anything, it appeared he had filled out even more since last summer. A wicked little part of me suddenly wanted to lock Sanderson, Portman, and Cole Sutherland in a room together and then wait to see which one of them would come out of it alive. At the moment, I would have put my money on Sanderson.

As it happened, I rather wanted to lock myself in a room when Gunnar stepped away for a moment to help his mom with something, and Sanderson almost immediately took his place sitting beside me. I felt my heart rate kick up at once, but certainly not for the same reason it did when Gunnar was around me.

"You're not who I was expecting to see here today."

What a strange mixture of memories and emotions his voice evoked! I adorned my face with a polite, fake smile. "Mikael told me he'd talked to you. I guess he didn't tell you his master plan, huh?"

The tall Icelander frowned. "I thought he was asking me those things so that he could come back and talk some sense into his brother for once – not so he could bring you here and make it worse."

I admit, his presence was definitely intimidating. Not because I was afraid of him physically, far from it; but I had to respect the strength of his influence over Gunnar – stronger probably than mine, Mikael's, and even his parents'. If Sanderson was determined to oppose his friend's relationship with me, it would be a tough blow to overcome.

I kept up my bold front. "You know, Olaf, I'm surprised you're actually being civil to me so far; it's more than I would have expected."

"I do it for him, not for you."

"That's fair enough."

Halli trotted over to us then and laid his head on Olaf's knee, looking for a friend to pet him. Olaf obliged, and I was surprised when he spoke again, softer this time. "I thought Gunnar would be over you after a couple of weeks…but I was wrong. This, right now, is the happiest I've seen him in a long time."

Now, I don't cry easily; after all, I'm a girl who plays hockey and has two older brothers. Up until that point, I hadn't shed a single tear on account of Gunnar Stahl, either in sadness or in joy. I don't know why Olaf's honest words affected me as strongly as they did; all I knew was that my eyes were suddenly stinging with unshed tears, and I had to bite down on the inside of my cheek to prevent them from falling. There was no way I could let Sanderson see that!

"So does that mean you and I don't have to hate each other?" I forced myself to say, in as steady a voice as I could muster.

He kept appraising me with his cold blue eyes. Perhaps I hadn't been able to hide my emotional reaction from him, after all.

"I suppose I could learn to put up with you – for his sake."

I almost laughed. "That's funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you." Then, without really knowing what possessed me, I stuck my hand out toward him and looked him straight in the eye. "Truce, then?"

He offered a small nod and an even smaller smile before shaking my hand. His hand practically swallowed up my own, yet I felt as though a huge weight had been taken off my shoulders. I knew Gunnar and I didn't necessarily need Olaf's blessing; just his tolerance would have been enough to keep our hopes alive. And he had given us that, at the very least.

_"This, right now, is the happiest I've seen him in a long time."_

In the brief seconds I had between Olaf's leaving my side and Gunnar's returning to it, I finally allowed all my emotions to culminate in the sniffle and the tear that were now long overdue.

All in all, it was the best Christmas of my fifteen years, despite the fact that I was literally thousands of miles away from family and home. It was quite late by the time I eventually said Merry Christmas to Gunnar one last time before turning in for the evening.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary: **Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **No ownership, no profit. No worries.

**Author's Note: **This next chapter came together more quickly than I had expected, so I figured I'd share it at the start of the weekend. We have swimming and more Sanderson goodness to look forward to in this one, so I hope you enjoy!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue**

**Christmas Surprises – Chapter 4**

Olaf must have spent the night with Gunnar, because goodness knows I was _not _expecting to see him there again first thing the following morning. My surprise must have shown, judging by the sadistic little smile that appeared on his face when he saw me. Evidently, a truce didn't mean he was going to completely leave me alone for as long as we were in each other's presence.

Even with me there, he and Gunnar had plenty to say to each other in Icelandic, and I could only imagine how much of what was said pertained to me. Although, if Olaf had slept over, he should have had plenty of time to talk things over with his friend after I went to bed. I took comfort in the fact that the mood between them seemed perfectly normal and at ease, and therefore nothing too dramatic could have happened late last night.

While we were eating breakfast, Sanderson asked me, "Are you coming with us this afternoon?"

I had no idea what he was talking about, and my spoon froze halfway to my mouth. "I don't know, what's happening this afternoon?"

"That's when we were supposed to get Mikael out on the ice," Gunnar supplied helpfully, "though it's not going to happen now."

"Yah, but it would be almost as good if we could take some shots at America's favorite goalie."

I quickly interjected, "Sorry, Olaf, but I don't think that's likely to happen, either."

"What's wrong?" he baited me at once, his blue eyes full of mischief and mirth. "Don't tell me you're too scared without the rest of your Ducks here to protect you?"

"Not at all!" I shot back. "If I was scared of you guys, I wouldn't even be here right now. You find me gear that fits, and I'll be happy to get in goal for you. But I'm sure not stupid enough to play without it, especially not against you all."

Sanderson sat back and smirked, looking a little too eager to take me up on that. "I'll ask around. Maybe someone we know still has their goalie gear from five years ago."

Gunnar, who had remained quiet throughout this latest little altercation, merely shrugged at his friend's suggestion, enough to acknowledge the possibility without offering any real optimism. I was still stuck on the insinuations of his final remark. Five years? Am I really that much smaller than them that they'd have to go back five whole years to find something that would fit me? Probably.

Olaf left after lunch to retrieve his own gear from home, agreeing to meet us on the ice an hour later.

While Gunnar and I were packing an athletic bag for ourselves, he suddenly questioned, "Did Mikael tell you to bring a swimsuit?"

At last with the swimsuit! "Yes, he did, actually, and I've been wondering why ever since."

Gunnar enlightened me, "There are many places to swim in Reykjavik, like where we are going today. We could also go to the Blue Lagoon, if you are interested."

"Blue Lagoon?" I repeated. "What's that?"

"It is a popular place for visitors to go swim outdoors, even in winter. The water is always warm naturally."

"Ah, so it's a big tourist attraction. Would you even want to go, if that's the case?"

He shrugged. "I have been there before, and I would not go again by myself; but you should see it while you are here. It is a special place."

"All right, then," I consented while he pulled me close into his arms. "It does sound pretty neat. As long as you're sure you don't mind?"

He leaned down to kiss me, his lips smiling against my own. "I won't mind anything if you are there. We'll go tomorrow, and I don't think you will be disappointed."

* * *

Olaf and another Icelandic teen were already on the ice warming up when we arrived at the athletic center which housed the rink. I didn't recognize the latter, at least not by his face. His hair was brown, and he was notably shorter than his two teammates. But I knew better than to let his stature influence my appraisal of his talent when Gunnar introduced him as Gustav Uberjavik, number seventy-four from the Jr. Goodwill Games. That rang a bell. Now I remembered number seventy-four as being a solid defender and an exceptional puck-handler – nearly as great a menace to Greg Goldberg back then as number nine and number twenty-seven had been.

Gunnar and I skated out to join them, and Gustav nodded to both of us in greeting.

"You're not Mikael," he remarked dryly to me when we were close enough.

I sighed and held out my hands in mock surrender. "I seem to be getting that a lot lately. Sorry to keep disappointing everyone."

I didn't sense any outright hostility from Gustav, only a definite curiosity as he studied me more closely. He was probably trying to figure out exactly what Gunnar saw in me, which I had to admit was only fair.

As it turned out, the Icelanders couldn't come up with any goalie equipment in my size. In a way, I was relieved; but another part of me had almost been hoping they'd be able to find something, just so I could prove to them that my save of Gunnar's shot last summer hadn't been a fluke. I knew Gunnar himself didn't believe that to be the case, but I couldn't be so sure about the rest of those Vikings.

After a bit of leisurely skating, we played two-on-two for a while, facing a sadly empty net. Gunnar and I were on one team, going up against Olaf and Gustav on the other. Our opponents had the upper hand for virtually every play, since I obviously wasn't in my usual position, and Gunnar and I had zero experience playing on the same team in any setting. Olaf and Gustav operated together like a well-oiled machine, although Gunnar could handle either one whenever he was able to get them alone.

But soon enough, I could tell the boys were ready to increase the physicality of their play. Even though they weren't playing in full pads, they were clearly holding back their typical aggression for my sake and were just as clearly anxious to be freed of the restraint. I withdrew from the ice to a place where I could sit and watch, while Olaf hailed down a new addition to complete their foursome. I would learn from Gunnar afterward that my replacement was an acceptable, able-bodied acquaintance of theirs from school, rather than an actual teammate from the University of Wolf Stansson.

It was almost painful for me to watch them play against that empty net – way too easy for players with their skill! The only thing that helped me overlook it was seizing this unique opportunity to observe Gunnar Stahl in his most natural environment. Even while playing for fun, he and his colleagues were more orderly and far more physical than my Ducks would ever have been. I caught myself wincing at a few of the hits out there, some of which Gunnar received and some that he dealt out.

Should I have been worried? How were none of them getting hurt? The heavy contact didn't seem to be adversely affecting them, and their skating remained strong. Eventually I was forced to simply accept it and enjoy watching Gunnar skate and interact with his teammates, even if I couldn't understand a word that was being said. In spite of how intensely the teenagers played, they shared plenty of smiles amongst themselves, and I began to suspect that they didn't truly start enjoying a hockey game until they had gotten in a few solid hits.

Gunnar and his new partner fared considerably better than he and I had. Now that the four of them were more or less equally matched, Gunnar and Olaf could cover each other, while Gustav and the newcomer did the same. But Olaf and Gustav still had the advantage of being real teammates outside of this little scrimmage, so they ultimately came out on top.

Gunnar still played his heart out, as one would expect from him, yet his individual talent couldn't atone for having a partner that he simply didn't know as well as someone like Sanderson. Even so, I was amazed now just as much as ever at how effortlessly he moved across the ice and at how easily he seemed to maneuver himself and the puck into exactly the right position. His presence out there among his peers was commanding and unmistakable; I'm sure even someone who didn't know the smallest thing about hockey would have a hard time taking their eyes off him.

The friendly game ended when their nameless acquaintance was called away by an impatient parent. I rejoined the three Icelanders whom I knew to skate with them again while they cooled down. By this time, the rink was a little more crowded, and I noticed several people (girls, in particular) sending shrewd, incredulous glances toward our little group. Apparently it was a strange occurrence to see a female skater hanging around so casually with some of Reykjavik's toughest young hockey players. I would be lying if I said that I didn't enjoy the covert attentions to some degree.

After leaving the ice a short while later, we walked past a gymnasium where I spied a group of college-aged students playing a game that looked sort of like a mixture between basketball and soccer. With a sudden, dawning realization, I stopped abruptly and grabbed Gunnar's wrist to make him do the same.

"Is this handball?" I asked, gesturing through the gym window. "Like Mikael plays?"

He smiled, probably proud of my deduction. "Yes, it is; only he is much better than this."

"So I figured."

"The Handball World Championship will actually be held here in Reykjavik next year," he then informed me. "That will be a fun time, _and_ itshould finally get Mikael back to Iceland for a little while."

It had been the plan all along that the four of us would soak in an outdoor thermal pool once we'd set aside our skates. We parted ways to go through our separate locker rooms, and upon seeing the guys in their swimsuits for the first time, I just had to allow myself a purely feminine moment in which I silently thanked Wolf Stansson for keeping all of his players in such exemplary physical condition.

The boys were understandably pale, considering the climate they lived in, and I wondered suddenly if they'd had any issues with sunburn out under the summer sun of southern California. But still, no girl could deny they did look good! Gunnar was the handsomest of all of them, of course. However, a closer inspection revealed that all three of them bore patterns of various bruises along their arms and torsos, some fresh and others fading. I guess even the best hockey pads didn't work perfectly all the time – especially not when you played for Coach Stansson.

Once we were all immersed in the warm water, safe from the frigid air, I scooted closer to Gunnar and welcomed the feel of his arm wrapping around my shoulders. As long as that didn't change, I felt I was ready to put up with whatever sort of teasing Olaf and/or Gustav might choose to unleash; and they did indeed have fun at my expense. Once again, having two older brothers was proving to be excellent preparation for this trip. Gunnar didn't try to make them stop either, provided things never got too inappropriate.

They kept themselves primarily entertained by trying to teach me some basic Icelandic, and it didn't take me long to realize what a difficult language I was dealing with. I felt pretty good about myself after mastering a few very, very simple phrases; but as soon as Gustav tried to teach me how to say "God bless you" after someone sneezes, my poor tongue got hopelessly twisted and tied. No matter how many times he said it aloud for me, I just couldn't get my own words to match his.

Gunnar himself finally laughed at me along with his friends, briefly tightening his hold on me and concluding, "Let's just stick to English. Or maybe you would have better luck with German?"

"No, don't teach her German!" protested Gustav with a groan. "It's bad enough that you and Mikael can have your own private conversations anytime you want."

"Or your own private shouting matches, more likely," Olaf added, winking conspiratorially at me when he caught my eye.

I shook my head back at him but couldn't wholly repress a smile. "Well, how do you think I feel listening to you guys speak Icelandic all the time? But no thank you, Gunnar, I think trying German would just confuse me even more. Maybe English would be best for everyone, like you said; plus, that way you all won't have to listen to me butcher your native language anymore."

The enthusiasm with which they unanimously agreed to my proposal made me wonder why on earth they'd been so eager to teach me in the first place.

* * *

I'm glad I allowed Gunnar to convince me to go to the Blue Lagoon – and not _just _because I was looking forward to a swimming situation in which I would have him all to myself for a change. When we arrived there the next day, it was like landing on a different planet!

Steam rose up from the warm, milky blue waters like a giant cloud all around us. The water depth and temperature changed seemingly at random as we moved around, which helped prevent us from ever getting either too hot or too cold. It was so comfortable, I could hardly believe we were actually outside in Iceland in the middle of winter!

Even the rocks there were worth mentioning. Above the water, they were black and jagged like all other volcanic rock, but then they were remarkably smooth and pure white underneath the water's surface. As we explored the Lagoon, Gunnar led me over to a large wooden box full of what appeared to be white mud. He reached in and scooped some into his hand.

"It's good for your skin," he explained before smearing it on my face with absolutely no warning. Once I had recovered from my surprise, I gladly returned the favor.

The rock formations throughout the Lagoon created an abundance of natural nooks and corners that were perfect for stealing short kisses, along with a couple of tunnels that were ideal for longer ones. Despite being so warm and relaxed in the water, I still shivered once or twice from the sheer physical thrill of skin-to-skin contact. Though we didn't stay too late, the early darkness that fell over Iceland at this time of year heightened the feeling of intimacy between us in this positively surreal setting.

Back home later that evening, I realized to my utter horror that, while silica mud and natural mineral waters might be good for the skin, they wreaked havoc on a person's hair. Mine felt like clumps of straw! But Elina, bless her, noticed my state of near panic and assured me that a generous second or third treatment of conditioner in the shower would get my hair back to normal. I'm very happy to report she was correct.

**Author's End Note: **The World Championship of Handball really was held in Reykjavik's Laugardalur Valley back in 1995. Amazing how that timing worked out for this story!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary: **Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **No ownership, no profit. No worries.

**Author's Note: **Thanks so much, everyone, for the happy feedback on the previous chapter! I'm glad you're all enjoying Julie & Gunnar's little reunion. Now here's another chapter that was ready for posting sooner than anticipated. I expect Chapter 6 will take a little longer, however, since I still have a lot of work to do on that one. But for now, do enjoy as our characters witness some of Iceland's natural beauty and have a couple of good heart-to-heart talks in the process.

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue**

**Christmas Surprises – Chapter 5**

Day five of my trip to Iceland was when we planned to go sightseeing in the open country. The weather was forecasted to be fairly agreeable, although I think it still took a valiant effort on Gunnar's part to convince his father that we would be safe driving by ourselves. I borrowed a pair of adequately-fitting snow boots from Elina, and we bundled ourselves up good that morning, leaving the house on a schedule that would hopefully get us to our destination at the peak of what minimal daylight was available. Gunnar proudly announced that he was taking me to see the most popular of Iceland's many waterfalls – Gullfoss.

The sky was overcast but not threatening, and there was definitely more snow as we moved farther inland, away from the oceanic currents which kept Iceland's coasts relatively temperate. Being from Maine, I was far more accustomed to omnipresent trees than the endless rocks that constituted most of the Icelandic interior. I also saw lots of colorful horses outside during the early part of our drive, without a single barn in sight to offer shelter. As a girl, of course I was worried for the ponies.

"Aren't they cold?" I demanded.

Gunnar shook his head, unconcerned. "Icelandic horses are tough. When their hair gets thick, they can stay warm on the coldest days, even better than we could in the best jackets."

On our way to the waterfall, we first made a stop at Thingvellir National Park, which would have been worth the trip in and of itself. The Park's main feature was a huge lake right in the center, covered in a solid layer of ice at this time of year. Thingvellir was also notable for being the site of the very first Parliament in history, more than a thousand years ago. Gunnar and I even walked through the same canyon where Iceland's Viking inhabitants would gather every year to review and make amendments to the nation's laws.

Until he told me, I had no idea that we were actually standing right on top of the Mid-Atlantic Ridge, which passes through the whole of Iceland. The earth's American and Eurasian tectonic plates are slowly drifting apart, resulting in geological activity that produces an abundance of earthquakes and volcanoes across the country. Gunnar spoke about it with a nonchalance that I found admirable but couldn't possibly duplicate. Personally, I was more than a little freaked out by the thought of what might be taking place just beneath our feet.

Then, finally, we were off to Gullfoss. The drive was long, and as we approached the falls on foot after parking the car, it was the coldest I had been so far on my trip. But the view was totally worth it!

Gullfoss was a spectacular three-tiered waterfall, over which the river even changed direction briefly before continuing past the second "step". While glacial gray-green water still flowed through where the current was strongest, everything was crystalized and frozen along the banks. In some areas, it looked like the water had frozen in mid-motion. Naturally, I took an abundance of pictures, but doubtless none of them would quite capture the full majesty of that place.

Mist rising up from the falls instantly froze not only on our hats and scarves, but in our hair and on our eyelashes too. Gunnar moved to stand close behind me with both arms wrapped around my waist, and I'm not sure which sensation impressed me more – the breathtaking vista in front of me, or the strong, steady presence at my back. Oh, how I wished Connie could see us now!

"It's beautiful," I breathed at last, turning around to face him. "This whole country is just wild and beautiful and free."

He used his thumb to brush some of the miniscule ice crystals off my cheek. "My brother would say that there is a lot to see in Iceland; but once you've seen it, there is not much left to actually _do_. In a way, I suppose he's right."

Which is probably why he became so immersed in athletics, I realized; he simply didn't know what else to do with himself. Aloud I said, "I get the impression Mikael was more than ready to move away when he was old enough."

"He is…" Gunnar faltered, searching for the right word. "He cannot stay still in one place for a long time."

"You mean he's restless?" I supplied, to which he nodded. "And do you feel the same way?"

"I am not…eager to be gone, like he always was. I love Iceland, and it is my home; but I think I would be willing to leave if I had to. And I probably _will _have to leave if I want to play professional hockey."

That much was true. I just hoped he didn't end up even farther away from me than he already was.

"Do you miss Mikael?" I tried, feeling a little bold.

At first I thought Gunnar might not answer me, but eventually he did speak. "He is nearly six years older than I am, so we were never really close…but it is very different here since he left. He's been gone for almost four years, and I have only seen him twice since then – three times, including Los Angeles. I suppose I do miss him, sometimes, and I wish he would come back to visit more often."

Then there was another long pause, as though he was debating whether or not to go on. When he finally did, his words were almost lost amidst the thundering waters. "What really hurts is that I don't think he misses us."

Oh, wow. What was I supposed to say to that? I gently squeezed his forearms with my gloved hands. "I'm sure he does; he just needs more space than other people, like you said. He obviously cares about you a lot, to have arranged my whole trip up here. I hope I can meet him in person someday."

I stood on my tip-toes so he could kiss me without bending over this time and was rewarded with his most passionate display of affection to date, while the waterfall roared on behind us.

After Gullfoss, it wasn't far to another geothermal area where we would see the active geyser Strokkur; it was like Iceland's version of Old Faithful at Yellowstone. Gunnar informed me that this was also the site of the great original Geysir, from which our English word "geyser" is derived, though it was no longer active.

I had never been to Yellowstone, so it was a novel experience for me to watch Strokkur "breathing" until it finally climaxed in a giant bubble, and boiling hot water exploded skyward. I likewise quickly understood why we weren't standing downwind.

Gunnar had been telling me about various glaciers and volcanoes over the course of the day. I found it quaint that he persistently referred to the glaciers as being male and the volcanoes as being female; I suppose the correlation was a fitting one. Now he explained that, if the weather conditions had been clearer, we probably could have seen one of the glaciers from our present location; we were also fairly close to Iceland's most active volcano, Mount Hekla. Back in the Middle Ages, Hekla was believed to be the entrance to hell.

"What would the volcano look like if we could be there right now?" I asked impulsively.

"Right now? I'm sure there would be lots of snow and, as always, lots of rocks and ashes."

"Ashes?" I reiterated. "Wouldn't those have all blown away after a while?"

"Not when the ashes are this big." He made a circle with his thumb and forefinger the size of a large marble, and I shuddered to think of what it would be like to have such "ashes" falling out of the sky while they were still glowing hot.

Gunnar continued, "It is a gray, empty wasteland around Hekla – just the wind and the stones. When you're there, you feel like there is nothing else alive for as far as you can see; and you can see a long way, if you go up the mountain at all. But in her own way, Hekla is just as beautiful as Gullfoss."

* * *

"I have to go to practice tomorrow morning," Gunnar told me as we drove back to Reykjavik.

"You mean a real team practice, not just skating around for fun this time?" I hadn't thought about that possibility before.

He nodded. "Do you want to come along and watch? You don't have to, really."

"No thanks, I think I'll just stay at home and keep Halli company until you get back. I wouldn't want to be a distraction."

We both knew there was more to it than that, however. I had mentally prepared myself for an encounter with Sanderson, and that obstacle was now safely behind me. But I had given no thought whatsoever to what I might do if I came across Wolf Stansson during my time in Iceland; it was not a happy prospect!

Prompted by that thought, I asked cautiously, "Does your coach know I'm here?"

"I don't believe so. My friends have all promised not to tell him."

"That's good; let's just hope you don't have any enemies."

I was by far more worried for Gunnar if Stansson should find out about our relationship than for myself, yet I still couldn't help feeling a little ashamed somehow. Gunnar had spoken openly about me to his friends, whereas I hadn't even mentioned Gunnar Stahl's name to a single Duck besides Connie.

I resumed talking in order to silence my conscience. "This does remind me about something I've been meaning to ask you. Back during the Games, Coach Bombay apparently went out on an ice cream date with the trainer from your team. Did you guys know about that?"

"Yah, we heard about it. Coach wasn't too happy, but Marria can take care of herself."

"And what about the rest of you? Weren't you guys upset? I mean, my team totally freaked when they found out; they thought it was nothing short of treason."

"It didn't bother us too much that she had gone on a date; we were just mad that _she _had gotten ice cream."

He was smiling openly at the memory now, and in spite of all my inner conflicts, my face couldn't help mirroring his. "You mean Coach Stansson was monitoring your food, too, on top of everything else?" No surprise there, the big control freak.

"That's right," he confirmed. "We had not eaten anything like ice cream in probably four months."

"That's so sad, because ice cream is so wonderful."

"It is. I heard that the day after the Championship, when you and I were together, the rest of my teammates each bought large containers of ice cream and ate all of it at once back in their dorms. I found empty bottles of chocolate syrup afterwards, too."

I laughed. "Oh, that's too funny! Drowning their sorrows in ice cream and rebelling against their coach at the same time. I'm almost sorry you had to miss out."

"Don't be sorry; I had a much better time with you that day. Besides, Mikael and I tried 'deep fried ice cream' at a Mexican restaurant the next day, and it was very good." Gunnar's expression suddenly sobered. "Julie, do you ask about Marria and your coach because you worry about what your friends think of us?"

And then the guilt came rushing back to me like an old, unwanted boomerang. "Actually, Gunnar…Connie is still the only one of my teammates who knows that I'm here right now – or that you and I have even been talking to each other since last summer."

He didn't say anything, but by the way he kept his eyes set straight on the road ahead, I could tell my confession had hurt him.

"Not because I'm ashamed of us," I hurried to explain, "not at all! It's just that…well, I didn't know how strong our relationship really was at first. And I was afraid that, if I told them, they might gang up on me and convince me that it was stupid to try and date someone from Iceland. But, Gunnar, now that you and I have had more time together, I promise I'm going to tell them everything as soon as I get back. Because no matter how hard they try or how many times they tell me I'm crazy, they can't tell me that this whole amazing trip didn't happen – or that you don't really care about me."

He still didn't reply, which worried me for a moment; but I must have said something right, because he silently reached over and clasped my smaller hand firmly in his own.

* * *

We were supposed to be watching a movie that night, as a way of relaxing after our adventure out in the countryside. But sitting there together on the couch, cuddled up close under a blanket, we were obviously more interested in each other than in whatever was playing. I tangled my fingers in his hair while we kissed – because, honestly, how could I not? When he finally gave me a chance to breathe again, I left one hand there, still playfully stroking through the soft hair I'd come to adore…until something caught my eye.

At first I thought it might be the dim light playing tricks on me, but there was definitely a thin white scar running along Gunnar's hairline near his temple. Intrigued, I pushed his hair aside so I could see better and traced the mark with my fingers.

"What happened here?"

It took him a moment to realize what I was asking about before he explained, "Olaf and I were playing hockey one time when we were much younger, and we were not wearing helmets." I could see where this story was going. "He hit me in the head with a puck – on accident, of course. It bled a lot and needed a few stitches, but it wasn't bad. Mother would say we learned our lesson."

Feeling a little childish, I sat up and gave the scar a quick kiss. "I'm glad it wasn't worse. You could have had a tooth knocked out or something."

He only grinned at that, causing my heart to speed up like it always did whenever he smiled at me. "There is always a chance of that when you play hockey."

"Yeah, I know, and it's like a battle scar. But still, I hope your teeth can all survive your hockey career, however long that may be; you have such a nice smile, Gunnar."

He really did; it simultaneously brightened his countenance and softened his features in a way that I'd not seen until our last day together in Los Angeles. Rather than responding, he reached behind my hair and started gently massaging the back of my neck. My eyelids fluttered shut as my muscles relaxed under his hand. Now _that _felt good! But I could hardly complain when he pulled my hair back and kissed my neck instead, right under the ear, making me smile and hum with pleasure. Good thing I had brought those turtlenecks like Connie suggested.

I truly hadn't meant to, but I must have accidentally fallen asleep later on while resting so contentedly against him. Because the next thing I knew, my sleepy eyes were blinking awake, and the entire house was quiet and dark. Gunnar was still there under the blanket with me, Halli now lying asleep on his other side. I couldn't be sure if he was awake or not, until I felt him tenderly kiss the top of my head.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you up." I hated how my voice must have sounded, still groggy and thick with sleep. "Why didn't you wake me?"

His hand gently rubbed up and down my shoulder. "This brought back good memories."

Initially, I drew a blank. Memories? What memories? Then ah, yes, of course – our night in the storage room. "I'm glad you can look back on that as a good memory, although I'm certainly happy that it happened now, too. Do you want to stay here?"

"If you do, yes."

I laid my head back on his shoulder without another word, and we stayed there like that for the rest of the night. He was just as warm and comfortable a pillow now as he had been back then.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary: **Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **No ownership, no profit. No worries.

**Author's Note: **Wow, thank you so much for all the positive feedback on that last chapter! It really is encouraging, and I do appreciate it. Now I would like to share Chapter 6 with you all before I leave town tomorrow for a long weekend. This one takes us through baby pictures and gives us a tour around Reykjavik. Enjoy!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue**

**Christmas Surprises – Chapter 6**

And just like the situation had been back in Los Angeles, Gunnar was again off to a bright and early practice the morning after he'd let me use him as a body pillow. At least this time he was able to eat a decent breakfast beforehand.

After he left, I had a few hours to spend with Elina, who soon brought out the family photo albums at my request. I knew most guys wouldn't appreciate their girlfriends flipping through their embarrassing baby pictures, so this was the perfect opportunity.

Gunnar and Mikael had both been awfully adorable, blue-eyed babies; and apparently Gunnar had always worn his hair long, going back to when he was four or five years old. I turned through pages of earlier Christmases, birthday parties, and school events while Elina kindly provided the narration for me.

As I might have expected, there were loads of hockey pictures for both Stahl boys from over the years, and these I could certainly appreciate above all the other images. Especially the ones from when they were very, very little and looked super cute in their bulky hockey gear. I also couldn't help grinning at the sight of a young Olaf Sanderson, who appeared in almost as many pictures as Gunnar himself after a certain age. Talk about a towhead! His hair had been almost white when he was younger.

If the pictures were anything to judge by, virtually every hockey team that Mikael or Gunnar had been a part of had done very well, long before either of them had played for Wolf Stansson.

And now that I was alone with Elina, it was time for me to ask, albeit hesitantly, "Do you ever worry about Gunnar playing for Coach Stansson?"

Rather than answering, she caught me off guard by asking, "Does it worry you?"

"From what I know and have seen so far? Yes."

"It is not my favorite thing to think about, either," she confessed. "I know he is very hard on all his players, especially those with great talent. But Mikael and Gunnar both improved the most while learning from Wolf, and we have always left the choice with them. If he ever became too much for them, they would be free to walk away."

It was pretty remarkable that neither of them had done so; although I suppose Mikael had, in a way. I reflected, "When Gunnar hurt his ribs a few months ago, I didn't believe him when he first told me that it had happened during a regular game, and not in a practice with Stansson."

Elina smiled warmly at me, sharing my concern. "As a mother, I do not blame you for that. I have seen too many bruises on my boys over the years, but they keep telling me 'that's hockey'. Gunnar did have a difficult time sleeping while his ribs were hurt, as you mentioned. I'm afraid he does not sleep enough as it is."

"And I'm afraid you're absolutely right about that," I concurred out of firsthand knowledge.

When we had finished with the albums, I took a seat on the floor next to Halli. All morning long, he had lain staring mournfully at the door, faithfully awaiting his master's return. I tried to console him and keep him company, but apparently I was a poor substitute.

"Poor Halli," I sympathized while scratching him under his collar. "Whatever did you do last summer when Gunnar was out of the country for three whole weeks?"

"I think that poor dog missed Gunnar more than any of us," Elina supplied as she came back into the room. "He simply did not know what to do with himself; at night, he went back and forth between Gunnar's room and Mikael's, looking for someone to sleep with. When the boys got back, he wouldn't let Gunnar out of his sight for a few days."

Suddenly, Halli raised his head off of his paws and perked his ears; sure enough, a few seconds later, Gunnar walked through the door. Halli darted forward to welcome him home with usual exuberance, and I followed his performance with a hug of my own in greeting. After my little talk with his mother, I was irrationally relieved to see and feel that my favorite Icelander was safely in one piece. How did Elina do it day after day?

Gunnar's hair was still damp from a recent shower, but not from any outdoor precipitation for a change. He and I had gone out to explore Reykjavik in snippets over the course of the week, whenever the weather would permit it; and on an oddly dry afternoon like this, it wasn't long before we were headed back out the door for another concentrated effort at sightseeing around town.

* * *

I had found to my surprise that it wasn't as wretchedly cold in Iceland as I'd been expecting (and fearing). At least, not in Reykjavik. The cold here was bearable, not much worse than what I was accustomed to in Bangor; the damp, however, was another matter altogether. My hometown in Maine wasn't far from the Atlantic Ocean, but Reykjavik was literally right on the water. The dampness, especially in conjunction with the omnipresent wind, seemed to pierce right through a jacket and into a person's bones, no matter how many layers he or she wore.

So far in our wanderings around Reykjavik, Gunnar and I had accomplished quite a bit. We had traversed up and down both the city's oldest street and its main shopping street. In the case of each, we had been forced to step inside a café or coffee shop in order to take shelter from the resurgent, freezing rains. I didn't mind, though. We had some lovely times just sitting there, sipping a hot beverage and quietly enjoying each other's company.

We had also made stops at the National Museum of Iceland and the Reykjavik City Library, more to satisfy my curiosity than out of any real interest on Gunnar's part. I must say he was a good sport about it; all in all, he had proven to be an excellent host for his unexpected guest. My highlight from the library had been finding my favorite book translated into Icelandic, and while at the museum, I had been fascinated to learn that the red coloring in Iceland's flag was intended to represent volcanic fire.

Although we didn't have time to actually go see any of the home footage ourselves, Gunnar had told me about certain Icelanders who "chase" volcanoes and film them erupting in the same way that we have "tornado chasers" back in America. I call it crazy, no matter which natural disaster you're chasing.

Today, now that it was surprisingly clear, we set out to achieve some views of Reykjavik from up high by ascending to the top of an old church that dominated the city's skyline. Inside the church, it was beautiful yet deathly quiet; however, from the highest point in the steeple, it did afford a fantastic view of the capital city and the ocean beyond.

Reykjavik wasn't a big city by any stretch of the imagination…yet it _felt _like a big city. On the one hand, it felt like walking around a quaint, historic downtown; but there was so much vibrant energy and color that it gave the capital the atmosphere of a much larger metropolis. And even with the early decent of darkness, an abundance of lights and Christmas decorations made it a pleasure to be out and about.

In many places, I could see the contemporary meeting the historic. Some buildings were brand new, while others appeared to have been built back in the 1800's. The streets in the older parts of the city were cobbled, narrow, and crowded. But overall, Reykjavik was very clean, and I think I would have felt safe at all times even if Gunnar hadn't been there with me. I found it noteworthy that while I saw plenty of birds and a few stray cats around town, there were no other small critters like the squirrels or rabbits that thrive back in the States.

Olaf caught up with us later in the day, and as much as I hate to admit it, I actually kind of enjoyed his company that afternoon. He and Gunnar spoke Icelandic over my head (literally) much of the time, but that didn't even bother me. More than anything, having the two of them walking on either side of me made me feel more like a native Icelandic teenager just bumming around with friends, rather than a visiting American tourist who would be completely lost without her personal guide.

"So how is your other Lady Duck?" Olaf asked at random as we moved along. "Is she dating the Cowboy yet?"

I was honestly surprised it had taken him this long to mention Connie; maybe not so surprised that he had remembered Dwayne in particular! But how to best answer him?

"No, no, they're not dating – though I'm pretty sure he still has a crush on her. Apart from that, Connie's had her hands full with the jerks from the Varsity hockey team at our school. They're even worse than you guys were last year."

"And does she try to fight them, too?"

I thought back to our first unofficial, unsanctioned meeting on ice against the Warriors and had to admit, grimacing, "Yeah, she does. But the bigger you boys all get, the more I'm thinking it might not be the best idea anymore."

We walked along the waterfront for a while and ended up checking out the boats in the old harbor. Due once again to the ocean currents, the waters around Reykjavik's shoreline remained free of ice, even in the dead of winter. We then stopped at a nearby bistro to have a late dinner and warm up before heading back home.

As far as food was concerned, we had definitely hit some of the local favorites during the week. Tonight, it was true Icelandic haddock – deep fried in a light batter and utterly delicious. Previously, I had sampled famous lobster soup at the Sea Baron (as good as any seafood I'd ever had back in Maine) and partaken of an ever-popular hot dog stand not far from our present location. I wouldn't dare attempt to pronounce the name of the latter, but Olaf would make us stop there again that same night when we walked past it, even though we had literally just finished dinner. As more of a breakfast item, I had also learned that 'skyr' was a traditional form of thick Icelandic yogurt.

But my favorite meal from the trip was a more romantic dinner that just Gunnar and I had shared at a highly-favored local restaurant called Thrir Frakkar – the Three Overcoats. Even though the place was alive and bustling with people, Gunnar and I had felt tucked away in our own cozy little corner, where it was easy to tune out everyone else. Of course, the food was also fantastic!

We were still at the bistro, waiting for the latest rain shower to _hopefully _pass on or at least lighten up, when Olaf turned to me. "You leave tomorrow, right?"

He just had to bring that up, didn't he? "Yeah, I'm afraid so. This week has gone by so fast! But hey, that means you'll have Gunnar all to yourself again." I had intended to be half-teasing there at the end, but we all knew how true that statement was.

"I really can't say I'll miss you – not like he will, anyway." He gestured toward his best friend. "But still, I wouldn't be surprised to see you again sometime soon."

As was often the case with me now around Sanderson, I rewarded his antics with a smile before I could stop myself. "You know what, Olaf? I hope you're right about that; I really do."

Because something told me that wherever Olaf Sanderson went, Gunnar Stahl would never be too far away. At least, not in the foreseeable future.

**Author's End Note: **Yes, I'm afraid the next chapter will be the last for this particular story. Julie and I are both so sad!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary: **Months after the conclusion of the Jr. Goodwill Games, Julie and Gunnar have a surprise opportunity to see each other again over Christmas. Julie/Gunnar. Multi-chap, Julie's POV. Enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **No ownership, no profit. No worries.

**Author's Note: **Indeed, we have reached the final chapter, and I want to send a huge thank you to everyone who's accompanied Julie on her adventures in Iceland! If you've read through most of this story with a silly smile on your face, then I've done my job right as a fanfic author. So now enjoy this update, and I'll see you at the end!

**Sympathy for the Icelanders: Epilogue**

**Christmas Surprises – Chapter 7**

I lay wide awake in the dark on my last night in Iceland. Gunnar and I had stayed up late as it was, with both of us being more reluctant than usual to leave the other's company; but even now, I found it impossible to sleep.

I just couldn't wrap my head around the fact that I would be leaving in less than twenty-four hours…and I hadn't the slightest idea of when I would see Gunnar again. Nor could I possibly conceive of going back to "normal life" either at home or at Eden Hall. How could anything feel normal again after a trip like this? If I had missed Gunnar before now, I was sure to be miserable without him going forward. I just knew I wouldn't be able to shake that inescapable feeling of loneliness, not even amongst the cheerful company of my fellow Ducks. As much as I cared for all of them, it simply wasn't the same.

Just then, I heard the familiar creak of the bedroom door opening. My heart rate immediately kicked into high gear, thinking it must have been Gunnar coming to see me. But weren't we supposed to refrain from doing anything "stupid", as Mikael had put it?

But, no – it was Halli. The door must not have latched fully when I closed it before coming to bed, and he had artfully nudged it open with his nose. His nails clicked across the floor as he approached and jumped up onto the bed without waiting for an invitation; I couldn't help sitting up to pet him. He responded to my attentions with great enthusiasm, licking my face and wagging his tail excitedly. So much energy…didn't he realize it was past both our bedtimes?

"Sorry," I murmured to him, "but your kisses just aren't the same as Gunnar's. I don't even know if you're allowed to be up here."

True enough, there was already blonde dog hair everywhere. Halli had probably spent some nights here, if this really was Mikael's old bed, yet rules often changed when a child's bedroom became a guestroom. But wasn't it just the ultimate gesture of acceptance into the family if Halli would abandon his usual accommodations with Gunnar to come sleep with me? How could I refuse?

"All right, fine," I gave in with a smile. "You can stay. But if we get into trouble in the morning, don't say I didn't warn you."

He made himself right at home, turning around in a circle and flopping down up by my pillow. I had to rearrange his paws to make room for my head, and I wondered with distant amusement if this was how he normally slept with Gunnar, too. That thought, combined with Halli's additional warmth, helped finally lull me to sleep for the night.

* * *

I woke up the next morning with fur all over my pajamas and dog slobber in my hair. That wouldn't have even been too horrible, if Gunnar hadn't seen me before I could sneak into the bathroom for a shower. He recognized my plight immediately, no doubt from personal experience, and I think he had to bite his own lip to keep from laughing.

"I'm sorry Halli got in with you last night," he said finally.

There was nothing for me to do but shrug. "That's all right; he didn't really bother me. I let him stay, so I can't blame anyone but myself for this mess. I just hope your mom won't mind all the dog hair."

"She's used to it," he assured me, placing a feather-light kiss on my forehead before shooing me into the bathroom so I could get cleaned up.

After a relatively quick breakfast, we made one last trip into downtown Reykjavik prior to my departure. We contented ourselves that morning with a quiet stroll hand-in-hand around Tjornin, a very quaint and picturesque pond in the city center. Flocks of ducks and geese made this place their home all year around, since the Icelanders keep parts of it heated to prevent freezing in winter. We were there in time to observe a very late sunrise, red light pushing out through the scattered clouds until everything gradually brightened. It was all quite idyllic, really. If only I wasn't so depressed because I knew we'd be heading to the airport as soon as we got back home.

The nice weather had given us a lovely sunrise, but it also meant there was virtually no chance of my flight being delayed or cancelled later that afternoon. Is it wrong how terribly that thought disappointed me? After all, I had a full week left before I had to report back at school; I wouldn't mind it at all if inclement weather required me to stay here in Iceland another day or two.

At one point during our walk, Gunnar and I stopped on an unspoken consensus and just stood facing each other for a moment. I rested my hands on his shoulders, all while enjoying the warm weight of his hands on my hips. But if I was going to have any peace of mind once I got back home, there was something I just _had _to ask him before I left; and I supposed this was as good an opportunity as any.

"So, Gunnar…I couldn't help noticing that there are a lot of pretty girls here in Reykjavik. Will you remember your girlfriend all the way back in America?"

"I will," he stated simply, and no doubt my relief was visible. I had no reason whatsoever to doubt him. "And will you remember your boyfriend here in Iceland?"

My thoughts flitted briefly to Banks, Scooter, and even Portman. It was no contest. "Of course, I will."

We lingered by Tjornin as long as we could, but eventually, we had no choice but to return home. I finished repacking my suitcase, taking one last thorough look to make sure I hadn't left anything of mine lying around the house. Then I had to say goodbye to Gunnar's parents, both of whom kissed me on the cheek and expressed their desire to have me visit again soon. That sentiment could not have been more mutual!

* * *

So Gunnar and I concluded my trip the same way we had begun it – by holding tightly to each other in the airport. Everything had flown by entirely too fast! And now that we were here in the airport again, it made me realize how much I truly wasn't ready to go back.

"Thank you for everything this past week," I said into his shoulder.

His arms tightened around me. "Thank _you _for coming. I hope you are glad that you did."

I tilted my head up now to look at him. "Of course, I am! This has been the best trip of my life." It went implied but unsaid that I meant it was even better than all that had happened in Los Angeles months before, gold medals included.

"You will have to come back again sometime during the summer, when the days are long and we can do more outside. There is still so much for you to see here." One of his hands came to rest on my cheek, and I eagerly leaned into the caress, trying to memorize the feel every little callus on his palm.

"I would love that! Hopefully I can soon. Or, maybe we can get you down to Maine for a while too sometime? Then I can actually get in goal and let you take a few more shots at me."

I might have been pushing things a little there, so I was pleasantly surprised when he only laughed. "I would enjoy that, too – as long as you promise not to go easy on me."

"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't dream of it. You're much too good for that." _Too good in more ways than one._

Then it abruptly occurred to me that the next day was New Year's Eve; my mind had been so preoccupied with other things, I'd practically forgotten all about the upcoming holiday.

"Since I'm here, I suppose I should wish you a Happy New Year now, too. I think it'll be a good one. Just don't let Olaf get you into too much trouble tomorrow night, okay?"

He just smiled and gently kissed me on the nose. "We will talk soon; I promise."

We'd made a rigorous comparison of our schedules the previous night in an effort to determine the best times to call each other during the rest of the chaotic school year. In my mind, we would be doing well if we could get in one quality phone date a month, on top of the regulars letters which we'd vowed to continue. And then…who could say what the ensuing summer might bring?

It was difficult not to cry, more so than I would care to admit. When we had said goodbye before, back in Los Angeles, I honestly hadn't expected to ever hear from Gunnar Stahl again – much less _see _him again, and in his native country no less. How utterly different things were now!

I think finally letting go of him that day was the hardest thing I've ever done. My stomach felt like it was tied in a knot so tight I could hardly breathe. When I thought back on all that had transpired over the trip, I'm sure my face glowed with an irrepressible, joyful smile. Even so, I couldn't stop a few tears from falling as the plane took off, and Gunnar was left far behind me.

* * *

I needed a little help navigating my way through Boston's airport in order to make my connecting flight, but all in due time, I safely landed back home in Bangor. My parents were both in baggage claim, waiting to meet me. I hadn't seen either of them since Thanksgiving, so having them there helped ease the pain of my long and lonely plane ride. But as happy as we all were to be reunited, I feared this joy would prove a temporary distraction, at best, from a different sort of emptiness that I had begun to feel even more keenly.

On the drive home, I relayed as much of the trip to my parents as I could, obviously omitting certain details that only Connie was likely to ever hear. They were happy to hear I had enjoyed myself, though I think they grew suspicious as I rambled on about Iceland and Reykjavik but kept my comments about Gunnar pretty generic. Maybe I could talk to my mom in private later regarding the new strength of my feelings for Gunnar Stahl. I couldn't believe my dad would take me seriously if I tried to have the same conversation with him, however; I was still much too young in his eyes. And if my brothers ever caught wind of the subject, I knew they would only tease me more relentlessly about my "Viking boyfriend" than they already did.

Early the next afternoon, on New Year's Eve, I received a phone call from Connie back in Minneapolis.

"Hey, Julie, welcome back!"

"Thanks, Con, it's great to hear from you! I have _so _much to tell you."

"I'm sure you do," she laughed. "Obviously you're home safe and sound, so that's good. I won't keep you too long right now; I mostly just wanted to check in and see how the trip went in general."

"Oh, Connie, it was amazing! Iceland is an incredible place, and seeing Gunnar again was just…gosh, it was the most wonderful thing ever. So now, as promised, I will think of some way to tell the rest of the Ducks about me and him; gently, I hope."

I could practically see Connie squirming on the other end before she started gushing out her apologies. "Jules, I am so, so sorry, but they already know. The whole team knows, I couldn't help it!"

Well, that was…unexpected. "Calm down, Con; just tell me, what happened?"

"The night you flew out, there was this big snowstorm over New York City; and since you usually connect through New York to get to Maine, the guys wanted to go get you from the airport and bring you back to school. They kept saying there was no way your plane would take off in that weather. I had to tell them that you wouldn't be at the airport anymore because you weren't actually going home. And then I couldn't think of a good lie off the top of my head, and they were all ganging up on me, so I just told them the truth. I'm so sorry! I don't know what those boys will be like the next time you see them."

"It's all right, really; what's done is done. And they can do whatever they want at this point, I don't even care. I had _such _a great time with Gunnar, and I'm not going to let them ruin it for me after the fact."

My friend didn't sound convinced. "Everyone was shocked, as you can imagine. They even dragged poor Scooter into it when I told them he'd taken you to the airport. Banks did look pretty hurt. At least Charlie didn't seem _too _upset by it, though I'm sure he's told plenty of other people by now. Fulton even mentioned that he might call Portman to tell him, and you know what Portman's like. If he does know, you're lucky he didn't go all the way to Iceland himself to bring you back."

"Hmph. I would have liked to see him try." I didn't say it out loud, but I'm sure Gunnar and Olaf would have loved to see that, too. Some of their Viking smugness must have rubbed off on me while I was there. "If nothing else, maybe it will get Portman up to Eden Hall in time for the JV/Varsity showdown. We could really use another enforcer."

"Speaking of enforcers, did you see Sanderson?" she inquired anxiously.

"I saw quite a lot of him, actually, along with another one of Gunnar's friends from the Games…and it honestly wasn't as bad as I thought it might be. Sanderson and I even kind of made peace with each other in the end, for Gunnar's sake. I still don't really understand why they're such good friends, because I can't tell that they have much in common besides hockey; but Olaf probably doesn't understand what Gunnar sees in me either, so I guess that makes us even."

"And he didn't make life miserable at all?"

"Nah. He made it clear he wasn't exactly thrilled to see me, and he wasn't shy about teasing me whenever there was an opportunity; but he never dished out anything I couldn't handle. However, he did ask if you and Dwayne were dating."

Connie blatantly ignored that last remark. "Did you take lots of pictures?"

"Yes, of course, I took a ton! Of Gunnar _and _the lovely scenery, mind you; I'll have to send him copies of some of the better ones of the two of us. Sanderson might have even sneaked into a couple of shots, too. I'm not sure how some of them will turn out since it was dark so often, but I'll have them all developed and ready to show you by the time we get back to school."

She and I would later determine that our favorite picture from the entire trip was one of me, Gunnar, and Halli all asleep together on the couch that one night. I can only figure that Elina must have seen us, found my camera, and snapped the shot while the rest of us were blissfully oblivious. Gunnar's left arm was wrapped around me, my head resting on his shoulder, while his right hand was buried in the fur around Halli's neck. I have to say, it was a pretty adorable moment to have captured forever on film.

Connie continued, "Good, and then you can tell me all about every single little detail, too. But real quick, before we hang up, I wanted to let you know that my dad was telling me about something recently, and I thought it might help you and Gunnar keep in touch more easily going forward."

That piqued my interest. "Really? What is it?"

"Have you heard yet about this nifty new thing they're calling email?"

**Author's End Note: **So…this honestly was supposed to be the end of the Sympathy Series. BUT it seems I just can't stop. I'm already jotting down ideas now for a **Rematch **story of sorts, set one year after MD2. I know a couple of other authors have already pursued that storyline, but maybe I can make mine different enough by setting it within the context of Sympathy. The whole thing is still in the very, very early stages…but I think we could have some serious fun/drama here. What do you guys think? Can we stretch Sympathy out a little longer?


End file.
